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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29043816">primadonna</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ofvulcan/pseuds/dabibones'>dabibones (ofvulcan)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anal Sex, Blowjobs, Bottom Yuri Plisetsky, Canon Compliant, Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, Dirty Talk, Drunk Sex, Enthusiastic Consent, Established Relationship, Future Fic, Hijinks &amp; Shenanigans, I say future like it isn't set in 2020, Loud Sex, M/M, Multimedia, Porn with Feelings, Post-Canon, Top Otabek Altin, Twitter, Verbal Humiliation, and also very bad at technology, but with a whole lot of, just a general romp of a time, otabek's sassy, over use of bad memes, samsung spin cycle sloppy toppy, specifically twitter hijinks &amp; shenanigans, unforgivable twitter display names, very mild, yuri's a brat</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 05:54:07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,097</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29043816</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ofvulcan/pseuds/dabibones</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Hey.”</p><p>Yuri knocks his big toe against Otabek’s temple, heel resting in the divot of his shoulder. Otabek looks up from reading <i>Pride and Preamble</i> or whatever the fuck, sandpaper tongue licking his lips, a question in his eyes that he doesn’t seem to think is quite worth vocalizing.</p><p>“You should get Twitter.”</p><p>"... Okay."</p><p>This, as Yuri would come to classify it later, is the beginning of the end.</p><p> </p><p>or: Yuri gets unsolicited vocal lessons, Mila runs damage control, Viktor and Yuuri get into the Christmas spirit, and Otabek becomes a Twitter God.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Katsuki Yuuri &amp; Victor Nikiforov, Otabek Altin/Yuri Plisetsky</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>52</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>190</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>primadonna</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>*shows up to this fandom four years late with a bag of pretzels and a can-do attitude*</p><p>this started out as a very dumb, very stupid pwp to take a break from the Legitimate Big Boy fic I'm working on for these two. then feelings happened and I barfed up 6,000 words. anyways, enjoy! as always, comments are very much required, and kudos are non-negotiable. kisses!</p><p>note: this is totally unbeta'd so all mistakes are on me. I also don't pretend to understand anything about the bureaucratic nightmare that is the ISU, or whether something like this is even cause for suspension/expulsion. for the sake of the ~plot~ (however little there may be), suspend your disbelief pls ^^</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Hey.”</p><p>Yuri knocks his big toe against Otabek’s temple, heel resting in the divot of his shoulder. Otabek looks up from reading <em> Pride and Preamble </em> or whatever the fuck, sandpaper tongue licking his lips, a question in his eyes that he doesn’t seem to think is quite worth vocalizing.</p><p>“You should get Twitter.”</p><p>"... Okay."</p><p>This, as Yuri would come to classify it later, is the beginning of the end.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p>
  
</p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>He has to go with <b>@TheRealAltin</b> because, hilariously, <b>@OtabekAltin</b> is already taken.</p><p>“That’s what you get for only joining in 2020,” Yuri snorts, just barely sidestepping in time to avoid the open palm headed straight for his ass. Otabek has great aim, unfortunately, so he still manages to clip him in the thigh, right over the line of bruises he’d delighted so much in giving Yuri the night before.</p><p>He winces and goes back to brushing his teeth.</p><p>“It’s literally my <em>name</em>-” Yuri loves it when Otabek gets whiny. His face scrunches up and he looks like Potya when she sits with her face in the sun, all sulky and cute. </p><p>The hot pink toothbrush sticking out of Otabek's mouth really completes the look, too. Yuri makes sure to tell him this, to get those precious few extra seconds of pout.</p><p>Otabek spits out his toothpaste in defiance right as Yuri goes to rinse his brush. He rolls his eyes at Yuri’s pointed glare.</p><p>“You do remember when you asked me to spit in your mouth like, last week, right?”</p><p>“That’s <em>different.</em> This is just… gross. And messy.”</p><p>“The only <em>difference</em>…” Otabek pops his toothbrush in the mug beside Yuri’s, raising an eyebrow. “... is that this time, it’s minty fresh.”</p><p>"You disgust me," Yuri loves getting Otabek all wound up, wrapped around his finger until he gets exactly what he wants. Thankfully, being a brat comes naturally to Yuri, when you factor in his competitive streak, and his need to be right all the time, and his complete lack of sensible father figures. </p><p>Also thankfully, Otabek fucking loves it, and is more than happy to play along. </p><p>"Oh, so you don't want me to do it again?" </p><p>"I didn't say <em> that</em>…" </p><p>Hook, line, and…</p><p>"Then why don't you go get ready, and we'll see just how messy we can really get?"</p><p><em>Sinker</em>.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p>
  
</p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Yuri wakes up the next morning to a familiar dull ache in his lower back, Otabek's soft snoring in his ear, and 542 missed calls. </p><p>He's fallen down more times than he could ever count - enough that he's gotten used to the pit drop in his stomach when he careens out of a quad sal, ice coming up too close, too fast, too soon to catch it on the razor edge of a blade. </p><p>This is nothing like that.</p><p>This is water over his head, and turbulence that goes on for just a bit too long, and the look on Katsuki's face when he'd said "<em>Yuri… it's your grandpa…</em>"</p><p>His body blocks everything else out and skips straight to his voicemail, hand shaking a little as the soft, electronic voice on the other end says "<em>New message, one… Wednesday, 12:41 a.m. …</em>"</p><p>And then the dam breaks and everything spills out all at once. </p><p>Mila: <em>“Oh my God, Yuri, call me</em> <b><em>right</em></b> <em>when you get this. Do NOT go online! We'll figure this out... probably. I love you, okay? Call me.”</em></p><p>Georgi: <em>"Well, that's one way to christen a Twitter account… I'd feel sorry for you, but I miss the touch of a lover too much to truly empathize. Call me, or don't… it's not like I have anything else to occupy my days..."</em></p><p>Viktor: <em>"Congratulations, Yurio! Your first big scandal! I have to say, you did come out of the gate with a bang… or should I say shout? Ha! Give me a call, I'll be happy to give you any tips and pointers!" </em></p><p>Katsudon: <em>“Hey, Yuri? I can’t imagine what you’re going through right now, but it’s going to be okay, okay? Just take a couple of deep breaths, we can work this out, I promise. I really hope this message gets to you before Viktor’s... Please call me.”</em></p><p>Chris: <em>“So it was</em><b> <em>you</em> </b><em>I was hearing down the hall after the GPF banquet! I’m impressed! I really didn’t think you had it in you. Give me a call when you get this… actually, scratch that - have Otabek Altin give me a call. Kisses!”</em></p><p>Yakov: <em>"Yurotchka. Call me. Now." </em></p><p>Lilia: <em>“You know, when I told you to become prima, I didn’t mean prima</em><b><em>donna</em></b><em> . Call me as soon as you get this.” </em></p><p>Leo: <em>“Hey, Yuri… look, I don’t know if you’ve seen it already, but it’s not even</em><b> <em>that</em></b> <em>bad... you can’t even see anything, and like... it’s only</em> <b><em>barely</em></b> <em> recognizable as your voice. I’d stay away from Twitter, this’ll all blow over soon... Call me if you need anything, okay?” </em></p><p>ISU Director, Fredi Schmid: <em>“Mr. Plisetsky, we are contacting you in regards to the recent video uploaded to Mr. Altin’s public Twitter account. Please call us back at your earliest convenience so we may discuss further association with this organization.” </em></p><p>Yuri listens to that last message three times.</p><p>"... <em>video…</em>"</p><p>"... <em>Mr. Altin…</em>"</p><p>"<em>... public Twitter account."</em></p><p>His fingers move on autopilot at the speed of sound, opening Twitter - 109 DM's what the <em>fuck</em> - and pulling up Otabek's brand new, almost empty, account. For a moment, he thinks this might be some sort of sick prank Viktor brewed up to get back at Yuri for calling him the crypt keeper one too many times, because there's <em>nothing</em>. No video, just a blank expanse, broken only by Otabek's welcoming tweet the night before. </p><p>Then he sees the halo of blue around Otabek's ripped-from-Men's-Skating-Today display picture and his heart drops. </p><p>He clicks the picture, like an idiot, and the video starts to play.</p><p>It's dark, just a blank, black screen, video quality poor and fuzzy. The audio, however, is pristine, and what starts out as light panting and the shifting of sheets quickly begins to escalate as a voice - <em>his</em> voice - lost in wanton abandon, growing in intensity, moans out Otabek's name, crests to new volumes-</p><p>Yuri smashes the power off button, the audio cutting out immediately, and has to fight the urge to chuck his phone at the wall for good measure. </p><p>"Otabek," he squeaks, and then all of a sudden, the weight of everything - all the messages, all the notifications - all hit him like a fucking freight train. He sits up straight, and Otabek's bolting up beside him too, instinct turning his body rigid even if his eyes are bleary and sleep crusted. </p><p>"OTABEK."</p><p>"Hng whatthefuck…?"</p><p>"Where the <em>fuck</em> is your phone?" Yuri doesn't wait for an answer, scrambling through the sheets, eyes wide. He finally finds it at the foot of the bed, under the duvet, Otabek's Twitter timeline springing up to stare back at him when he deftly inputs his password. </p><p>For a brief - <em>very</em>brief - moment, that evil worm that wriggles around in his brain tells him Otabek did it on purpose. That this - all of this, two years of dating and whispered "I love you"'s and names on a lease - was all just some plot to throw him off his game, to beat Yuri at World's, to ruin his career forever. </p><p>That worm dies when Yuri realizes that even if all of that <em>is</em> some elaborate ploy to destroy him, there's no flying chance in hell Otabek even knows what a Fleet is, let alone how to send one. </p><p>You can't fake that level of technological ineptitude.</p><p>He quickly clicks in and deletes the video like his fingers are burning, as if the damage isn't already well and truly done, holding Otabek's phone to his chest like it's a pressure sensitive bomb. Otabek's awake and alert enough now that he's clued in to the fact that something is seriously wrong, looking at Yuri with wide, innocent, technologically illiterate eyes. </p><p>Yuri just stares back. </p><p>"We are so fucked."</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p>
  
</p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Yuri's never been quiet in bed. It used to be a point of embarrassment, beet-red and burning when he turned the speakers down, tossing used up tissues in the trash can. </p><p>Then Otabek had came along, and that had made it all the much harder to hide - there's only so many ways you can bite your tongue before you give in, especially when you've got the Hero of fucking Kazakhstan on top of you breathing "<em>c'mon, I want to hear you</em>" like it's the only thing on his Christmas list. </p><p>After that, he'd stopped trying to hide it. Who fucking cares? He was loud in every other aspect of life, might as well toss sex into the mix as well. After all, they'd splurged on the apartment with the extra insulated walls for a reason. </p><p>It's moments like this when Yuri wishes he'd maybe been a little less shameless. </p><p>
  <em> "It's not that bad." </em>
</p><p>"There are <em>memes</em> , Mila," Yuri mutters into the phone, trying to keep quiet with Otabek in the next room. The majority of Yuri's morning had been torn between returning calls and consoling Otabek, assuring him that "<em>no, it's not your fault</em>" and "<em>yes, I promise I'm okay</em>" and "<em>no, don't be an idiot, I'm not going to break up with you</em>."</p><p>"Viktor keeps sending me TikToks. Someone made a sound remixing it with Hayloft and it already has over a thousand videos."</p><p>"<em> How do they even know it's you? It's not like your name's in it anywhere?" </em></p><p>"Someone <em>else</em> made a whole Reddit thread analyzing it and cross referencing it to interviews I've done," Yuri sighs. He hates that he's kinda impressed. "It turns out I've said 'fuck' on TV a <em>lot</em>."</p><p>
  <em> "Shit, Yuri… do you want me to leak my nudes in solidarity?" </em>
</p><p>"I don't really feel like giving Yakov <em>another</em> heart attack today, thanks," Yuri snorts, trying not to think back to his call with Yakov this morning: "<em>Hey, man who is the closest thing to a father I've ever had. So, you heard me have sex last night, and now the whole internet knows about my love affair with Otabek Altin. What's that going to mean for the rest of the skating season?</em> " </p><p>"Besides, I doubt your tiny tits would be worth anything more than a passing glance."</p><p>
  <em> "How would you know how big they are?!" </em>
</p><p>"Cause you used to walk into the changing rooms topless all the time, you hag!" A shadow falls over the doorway and Yuri glances up to see Otabek, face tired and slumped. </p><p>"Hey, I gotta go, okay? Don't post your fucking nudes. Love you."</p><p>Yuri hangs up, gliding over to Otabek with more grace than the situation calls for, especially considering Otabek's unshaven and still kinda looks like he's gonna hurl. </p><p>"Hey…" </p><p>They're the same height now - have been for a while after Yuri sprang up like a beanpole at seventeen to meet Otabek in the middle - but even still, Yuri feels engulfed in his presence, warmed to his core. </p><p>He knocks their foreheads together lightly, thumb brushing over Otabek's scratchy jaw. </p><p>"Just got off the phone with the ISU," Otabek says, and if Yuri thought he <em>looked</em> worse for wear, it's nothing compared to his voice. Otabek doesn't cry - Yuri's only seen it happen once in the almost five years they've known each other - but he sounds like he's barely holding back a lifetime of tears right now. </p><p>"And..?" </p><p>"I'm gonna make a statement," Otabek isn’t looking at him, which is never a good sign. Usually, Extended Eye Contact and Otabek Altin go together like white on fucking rice. “I’m gonna take the blame for it, they shouldn’t suspend you too if I apologize. I was hoping we could maybe try and convince people we’d been hacked, but it’s kinda hard to do when it was sent out from our IP address…”</p><p>Yuri blinks.</p><p>“Wait, hold on, what?” he frowns, pulling away just enough that he can see all of Otabek’s face. “Like fucking hell you’re taking all the blame for it. If you pin this on yourself, Beka, at the very least you’re looking at suspension - more than likely, they'll kick you out for good. No fucking way. You can barely even hear you in it!”</p><p>“<em>Exactly</em>,” Otabek finally looks at him, and his brows are pulled together in that frustrated way they get when he pops a quad, or when burns his hand while he’s making eggs, or when Potya hisses at him after too many belly scratches.</p><p>Only this time, it’s much, much worse.</p><p>“The way it looks right now, Yura... it <em>looks</em> like I’m extorting you.”</p><p>Yuri looks at him firmly. God, he loves him; loves the way he has a smile that’s just for Yuri, loves that he’s wicked quick with every comeback, loves that in the two years they’ve been together he’s never once made Yuri feel like he isn’t the whole universe, stars and all.</p><p>Yuri loves him, but sometimes Otabek Altin’s a fucking idiot.</p><p>“Look at me,” he turns Otabek’s face to face him head on, noses brushing as he gets in close, intense eyes meeting Otabek’s wide stare. “Cut the chivalry crap, got it? You're not <em>extorting</em> me, or whatever the fuck. We’re in this together. Have you ever known me to <em>not</em> be an attention seeking whore? In the most relevant example currently available on the internet, I’m <em>literally</em> begging for it. So if we’re gonna do this - and it kinda looks like we have to - we’re doing it together. And if those fucks at the ISU decide to suspend anyone, it’s going to be both of us.”</p><p>Otabek looks back at him for a long moment, that twinkle of something deep and nebulous in his eyes, before he's pushing forward to kiss him. Yuri intercepts it with a quick hand to Otabek’s mouth, grinning wickedly against his knuckles.</p><p>“Go shave,” he snickers, raising an eyebrow at Otabek's questioning glance. “I don’t think we’re gonna win any sympathy points if I show up to the press conference covered in beard burn.”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p>
  
</p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>The press conference goes better than expected, all things considered. Otabek manages to get Yuri into a suit, which is much more than Yuri had been planning on doing; as far as he figures they’re lucky they’re even getting a statement from the two of them at all. </p><p>They also don't get <em>completely</em> mobbed on their way to the rink, which is definitely a plus.</p><p>However, <em>better than expected</em> does not necessarily mean <em>good</em>.</p><p>“Is it really your voice in the video, Mr. Plisetsky?”</p><p>Yuri looks at the reporter.</p><p>“Wow, really going for a Pulitzer, aren’t you? What, do you need a demonstration or something?” He can hear the little Lilia-angel that sits on his shoulder and acts as his voice of reason and impulse control getting quieter and quieter as the Viktor-devil that usually just belts the chorus to Sara Bareilles’ Brave sings to new volumes. </p><p>Beside him, Otabek sighs.</p><p>“We are the ones in the video, yes.”</p><p>“And, Mr. Altin, what exactly was your intention in posting this video? You are aware that there are a number of underage individuals following you on that account, are you not?”</p><p>“Well, I don’t really think I had <em>any</em> intentions--”</p><p>“It was an accident, okay?” Yuri tries to dampen his scowl. He knew what they were getting into doing this, but it still - he's not just gonna let Otabek get cornered like that. “Did it really seem like something we meant to post? If you want to talk about how moral it is, talk to the Twitter moderators - they’re the ones who kept it up for twelve hours. In fact, they didn't even delete it! Number one trending topic, and we had to get rid of it ourselves!”</p><p>“What about-”</p><p>“Look, I’m going to save you guys the trouble, okay?” Yuri grabs the mic, a small shriek of feedback piercing the air. He clears his throat.  </p><p>“Yes, it is us in the video. Yes, we are dating. No, I don’t know if the ISU is going to suspend us. No, I’m not sorry. And yes, it <em>was </em>a great fucking night.” </p><p>He drops the mic onto the podium, marching off towards the changing rooms to an uproar of pictures and questions shouted over questions. Just before Yuri reaches the door, he hears Otabek pick up the mic again, tapping it twice.</p><p>“I would just like to amend that statement - I agree with everything else, but I <em>am</em> sorry for posting the video. Also, yes, I do love him. Okay, uh… bye.”</p><p>It's in moments like these that Yuri wishes both of them weren't so anti-pda, because he seriously considers pulling Otabek in by the tie and kissing him, camera flashes and headlines be damned.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p>
  
</p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>The next couple of days are a whirlwind. They mostly consist of Yuri calling everyone he’s ever met in his life to confirm that yes, he is okay, and no, he’s not about to take a nose-dive into the Neva. Thankfully, most of them get the hint and don't try and pry too much, although Yuri <em>does</em> have to deal with an hour long call with a tearful Katsudon that culminates in him hanging up after Katsuki assures him for the fourth time that he loves him like a brother, and nothing like this will ever happen again. </p><p>It's exhausting. </p><p>On the plus side, Otabek seems to have cheered up exponentially following the press conference, though Yuri likes to attribute that to the fact he’d crowded him up against the lockers in the privacy of the changing rooms, following Otabek’s little declaration.</p><p> </p><p>(“Oh, so you love me, huh?” he smirks against Otabek’s skin, pulling his dress shirt out of his pants, completely apathetic towards any wrinkles he's definity going to make.</p><p>Otabek, for his part, gives a very convincing display of innocence, despite the fact his hands are wandering lower and lower down Yuri’s back.</p><p>“You know that I do-”</p><p>“Show me how much-” Yuri breathes, knees hitting the linoleum with nothing short of reverence.)</p><p> </p><p>They also get <em>extremely </em>popular on Twitter.</p><p>Otabek especially finds himself with over two hundred thousand new followers, and somehow, in a surprise turn that Yuri had <em>not</em> been expecting, really steps up to the challenge. As it turns out, Otabek's not actually that bad at social media, he's just really bad at Instagram in particular. His Twitter career, however, seems to be a match made in heaven; after all, Otabek is a man of few words, and Twitter is a site of few characters.</p><p>Before long, he's averaging a couple thousand likes per tweet, and for the first time, Yuri's not the only person realising that yeah, his boyfriend's actually pretty fucking funny, thank you very much. </p><p> </p><p>(Unfortunately, this also means Yuri finds himself waking up nearly every day for the next week to find Otabek already up and on his phone, scrolling through his timeline.</p><p>“Did you go viral again?”</p><p>“Yep.” </p><p>"Was it because you took a shitty picture of me sleeping again?"</p><p>At this point, Otabek doesn’t even bother to hide his smug smirk.)</p><p> </p><p>A major downside to the whole situation - besides the whole world knowing exactly what Yuri sounds like when he’s getting railed, obviously - is the Angels are <em>relentless</em>. He’d kinda hoped that in finding out he was in a relationship, they’d simmer down a little, but it seems to have had the opposite effect. </p><p>“This is why I didn’t want to tell the world we were together until after we got married,” Otabek mutters, nodding over at the crowd of adoring fans outside the rink, holding up signs and posters displaying very poorly manipulated photos of the two of them in various compromising positions.</p><p>Yuri just splutters, dragging Otabek through one of the side doors before anyone can see them and come asking for a dramatic reenactment. </p><p> </p><p>(“Hey-” Yuri turns to Otabek later that night, feet in his lap, splayed out on the couch together. Otabek looks up from his book - he’s moved on from <em>Pride and Prejudice</em> and is onto <em>Dracula</em> - eyebrow raised.</p><p>“Did you mean what you said? About us getting married?”</p><p>“Hm? Oh, no way. I’m trying to keep my options open.”</p><p>“Okay good, me too. I don’t want to be tied down or anything.”</p><p>Otabek grins, tossing the book aside to kiss him senseless.)</p><p> </p><p>One thing that remains frustratingly, irritatingly consistent, however, is the lack of updates from the ISU. They’d put out a statement a couple of days after shit hit the fan informing everyone they were<em>“reviewing Mr. Altin and Mr. Plisetsky’s continued association with the organization,”</em> but since then it’s been damn near close to radio silence. </p><p>Otabek likes to blame that on Yuri practically screaming down the phone at the board of directors when they go five days without a call.</p><p>Yuri doesn’t really see how the two things are related, but whatever.</p><p>He can't pretend it's not something that eats at him, though. All in all, their lives don't change much - sure, they get a lot more requests to appear on talk shows, but mostly it's the same old shit. They go to practice, they stick to their strict mid-season diet, they tweak and improve and optimize their programs; it'd just be nice to know if they're doing all of that for a <em>reason</em>.</p><p>Not to mention, the clock is also ticking on him getting a full refund on his flight to Zurich for Euros, and if Yuri has to pay for that shit out of pocket, those ISU bureau-fucks are gonna have to worry about a lot more than some raised voices through the safety of a phone call.</p><p> </p>
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</p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>The first time they really <em>see</em> anyone - outside of Yakov and Lilia, of course - is at the annual Katsuki-Nikiforov Christmas Get Together out in Moscow. Most everyone else has been keen to let them go about their business, and get to work on pretending they don't know just a <em>little</em> too much about their private life. </p><p>Yuri knows immediately that they're not going to get the same silent treatment when the first words out of Viktor’s mouth after he throws open the door are:</p><p>“Congratulations on losing your virginity!”</p><p>Yuri glares.</p><p>“... how could you <em>possibly </em>think I’ve been a virgin this whole time?”</p><p>“Well, I just assumed - and there’s nothing to be ashamed of, it happens to everyone that first time! - but with how short the video is...”</p><p>And that's enough to set Yuri off, chasing after a cackling Viktor, ignoring Katsuki’s shrill cries of “no shoes in the house!”</p><p>By the time they make it back to the living room with the others, Viktor has somehow managed to wrestle a Santa hat onto Yuri’s head and is holding up a sprig of mistletoe that he’d pulled out of… actually, you know what? Yuri doesn’t want to know.</p><p>“<em>Yuuuuuuri~</em>” Viktor sings, twirling the leaves around in his fingers as he deposits Yuri down in Otabek's lap. Katsuki, to his credit, just rolls his eyes fondly.</p><p>“Not before presents,” he smiles, handing Yuri and Otabek a thin envelope. Yuri gives him a suspicious glare - they don’t <em>do</em> presents. They all know this Christmas thing is just an excuse to get blitzed out of their fucking minds and pretend they don’t remember Katsuki dancing nearly-naked to Shania Twain when they nurse mimosas the following morning.</p><p>Otabek rolls his eyes at Yuri’s wary glance, taking the envelope and slicing it open with deft hands. The only thing inside is a simple piece of white printer paper, but Yuri watches as Otabek’s eyes widen, jaw dropping to his chest like he's looking at the fucking Holy Grail.</p><p>“Let me see-” Yuri snatches the piece of paper from Otabek’s slack fingers, eyes scanning quickly over the words of what he can now see is a printed screenshot of an email.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Mr. Nikiforov, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> After careful consideration, we on the board of directors have come to the joint decision to drop the charges of misconduct against Mr. Altin and Mr. Plisetsky. No further action against them shall be taken at this time. They will both, of course, be welcome to compete in the Four Continents Championships, and the European Championships, respectively. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Your continued support is invaluable to us, and we look forward to working with you in the future. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Merry Christmas, and Happy Holidays, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Jan Dijkema </em>
</p><p>
  <em> President of the International Skating Union </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Yuri stares at the piece of paper for a long, drawn out moment, his eyes finally drifting up to look at Viktor and Katsuki.</p><p>“They’re going to read a statement on the eleven o’clock news, but…” Katsuki shrugs, smiling wryly. “We thought you two might like to hear it before the rest of the world.”</p><p>“Wh- <em>how</em>? What? <b><em>How</em></b>?” Yuri knows they're meant to be together because Otabek is somehow formulating the exact words that are currently flying through Yuri’s brain in a jumbled, tangled mess. </p><p>“Well,” Viktor hums, smirking around the rim of his glass of mulled wine. “I thought that perhaps, if the most decorated figure skater of all time were to do some prodding, the ISU might come to a decision a little sooner. And mentioning my <em>years</em> of unbroken, unwavering support for the organization only served to sweeten the pot.”</p><p>Here’s the thing: Yuri doesn’t do hugs.</p><p>That’s why he’s really glad he can blame the single glass of eggnog he’s had when he vaults across the table, knocking over Katsuki's glass, and nearly breaking his own neck in the process of throwing his arms around Viktor's.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p>
  
</p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Yuri is deliciously drunk, vision blurred in a vodka haze by the time he stumbles back to Viktor and Katsuki’s spare room with Otabek, all wandering hands and longing, lust-filled eyes. It’s really a testament to Otabek’s character that he waits until the door is closed and locked behind them before pushing Yuri up against the wood, one hand digging divots between his ribs while the other pulls their bodies flush at the waist.</p><p>Yuri probably would’ve just had him in the hallway, if it’d been left up to him.</p><p>The rest of the night had gone by in a flash of celebration and singing and Katsuki making a fool of himself, and all Yuri can think about is that they're finally, <em>finally</em> in the clear. </p><p>Then Otabek is kissing him, and Yuri stops thinking altogether. </p><p>It’s all intensity and fire, giving away nothing of how wasted he must be - he’s had at least as many drinks as Yuri, but when Otabek grinds against him, achingly slow and unwavering, it’s as single-minded as ever.</p><p>Yuri’s brain might be fried, but his body knows how to react to Otabek. After almost two years, they know the ins and outs of each other, know exactly what makes the other <em>tick</em>. So when Yuri brings his hands up under Otabek’s shirt and drags his nails down his back in ten sharp lines, the deep moan he receives awards him enough mental clarity to smirk against his lips.</p><p>“Like that?” he teases for good measure, just to feel the nip of Otabek’s teeth against his skin.</p><p>They pinwheel back towards the bed, touching down onto the mattress with twin gasps. Yuri lands on top, straddling Otabek’s thighs, and immediately gets to work manhandling him out of his shirt. He grins wolfishly down at him when it falls to the side, letting his hands splay out over Otabek’s chest.</p><p>“I win.”</p><p>“Does everything have to be a competition with you?”</p><p>“You only say that when you lose-” Yuri smirks, leaning down for another open-mouthed kiss. He makes a small noise at the back of his throat, pulling away with a frown. “Hold on-”</p><p>Reaching into Otabek’s pocket, he pulls out his phone and sets it on the floor. Then, with all the flexibility and grace of a man who’s been skating since he was four years old, he kicks it to the other end of the room, hearing it thud dully against the wall behind him.</p><p>“Hey! Watch it!”</p><p>“It’s an 8, Beka, let’s not act like it’s brand new; it has a home button. Besides-” Yuri grinds his hips down forcefully, relishing the gasp that spills from Otabek’s lips and the sharp press of Otabek’s erection against his ass. “I don’t want any repeats of last time.”</p><p>Otabek is lightning quick when he wraps an arm around Yuri’s waist, flipping their positions before Yuri even registers they're moving. He looks up with wide eyes, back arching on impulse, instinct pulling him closer to Otabek.</p><p>“No repeats at all, huh?” Otabek’s voice is that deep kind of gravel that goes straight to Yuri’s dick, and he lets out a little involuntary moan at the memory alone.</p><p>“Well, maybe we could revisit <em>some</em> aspects of it…” </p><p>And doesn’t Otabek just jump on that and <em>run</em>.</p><p>They make short work of the rest of their clothes, stopping only for Otabek to trace his tongue over Yuri’s clavicle, his hip bones, each of his nipples, <em>twice</em>. It’s not a lot, but it’s enough that Yuri’s already panting for it by the time Otabek nestles himself between his legs, leaning over to take him into his throat in one smooth movement.</p><p>Yuri slaps a hand over his mouth, gripping onto the sheets as he moans out between his fingers. Otabek reaches up to grab Yuri’s wrist firmly, pulling off of him in a wet slide, and Yuri has to put all of his drunken mental fortitude towards not coming at the sight of Otabek’s red lips still connected to the head of his cock by a thin line of saliva.</p><p>“You’ve never been quiet before, why start now?” Otabek smirks, licking his lips as he pulls Yuri’s hand away from his mouth. Yuri nods weakly, sucking in a sharp inhale as he curls his fingers into Otabek’s dark hair instead, guiding his head back down again.</p><p>This time, Otabek’s kind enough to go a little slower (and not show off by deep-throating him right out of the gate), but that doesn’t exactly make it any easier for Yuri to keep himself together. The wet heat of his mouth is <em>obscene</em>, tongue curling in all the right places as he slides along Yuri’s length, punctuated by Yuri moaning out inhuman sounds into the dark air around them.</p><p>“<em>Fuck</em>, o-oh-” he tugs on Otabek’s hair hard when he takes him in deep and swallows around him, familiar heat building inside of him. “Beka, Beka- stop, I’m-”</p><p>Otabek pulls off of him with a wet <em>pop</em>, scanning up Yuri’s heaving chest, eyes hungry and dark.</p><p>“Are you going to come already, Yura?” he presses his smirk against the head of Yuri’s cock, smearing precome over his swollen lips. Yuri groans loudly in embarrassment, flushed a deep red under Otabek’s gaze.</p><p>“If you can’t keep it together, it’s okay. I’m sure you tried your hardest…” Otabek mocks him, teases fleeting licks up Yuri’s length, and Yuri <em>burns</em>. He fists his fingers further into Otabek’s hair, pushing his head back with enough force that his eyes widen in shock, Adam’s apple bobbing.</p><p>“If you don’t get inside of me <em>right now</em>, I’ll fucking murder you, Altin.”</p><p>Otabek must be a little more wrecked than Yuri originally gave him credit for, because he just nods dumbly, expression glazed over in the way it does when Yuri knows he’s got him <em>right</em> where he wants him. </p><p>Otabek leans over the side of the bed for their overnight bag as Yuri sits up a bit, sending out a prayer of thanks to Past Otabek for having the foresight to predict where this night was going to go when he comes back up again with condoms and lube. Yuri crawls into his lap, spine arching as he pulls Otabek in for a lingering kiss, pushing a moan past his lips when he tastes himself on Otabek’s tongue.</p><p>The cold press of one finger quickly gives away into two, until Yuri’s grinding back against Otabek’s hand like it’s the last goddamn thing anchoring him to this earth, head thrown back as his heavy moans echo against the walls.</p><p>“Oh <em>god</em> ... Beka, fuck me. Fuck me, already, <em>oh</em>-”</p><p>“Needy-” Otabek whispers against the long line of Yuri’s throat, like his own voice doesn’t crack with desperation when he slips his fingers out, earning him a long, drawn out whine. Yuri sits up on his knees, long hair falling like a veil over their faces as he cups the sharp line of Otabek's jaw in his hands. </p><p>When he lowers himself down onto him, Yuri paints the space between them with a dark, deep moan, and Otabek matches it almost colour for colour. They sit there for a moment in it, gasping each other's air, until Yuri starts to move. </p><p>And then it's all over. </p><p>Yuri's not going to last long like this - too hot, too close, too drunk on vodka and the thick, easy slide of Otabek's cock, like Yuri was born to take him - but he gets the feeling that Otabek's not too far behind. He's whispering out heady Kazakh curses - the kind that make Yuri's toes curl - into Yuri's ear as he rocks up into him, fingers tangled so deep into his hair Yuri's afraid they might never get them out. </p><p>Yuri moans out Otabek's name like a mantra, cock hard and leaking against their stomachs as Otabek fucks up into him. And all it takes is for Otabek to reach between them, wrap his fingers around Yuri with one, two firm strokes, and he's coming, shooting over Otabek's chest and fingers, moaning out his name like he wants the whole world to know. </p><p>Otabek buries his face into the hollow behind Yuri's ear, chasing his orgasm like his life depends on it. Yuri drags his nails across Otabek's shoulders to help him across the finish line, until Otabek stills inside him, letting out the rich, heavy groan of a man well spent. </p><p>They collapse onto the sheets, and Yuri immediately crawls in for a long, languid, dirty kiss, sharing heavy panting breaths between them as they both come down. </p><p>"Fuck- мен сені жақсы көремін-" Otabek gasps when they pull away, tongue fumbling between Russian and Kazakh. Yuri grins, raw and real. </p><p>"Love you too-" He rolls onto his back just to let the cool air hit his skin, thanking whatever higher being is out there for Viktor and Katsuki's soundproof walls.</p><p>He reaches over to drag his fingers along Otabek's jaw, letting out a breath. </p><p>"Does it bother you?"</p><p>"Hm?" Otabek pulls his hand in to kiss his fingertips. </p><p>"Does it bother you? That everyone knows, I mean."</p><p>Otabek looks up at him, brows pulled together in that adorable way that means Yuri's said something incredibly stupid. <em>I'd marry him right now, if he asked</em>, comes in a fleeting thought, though that could just be the orgasm talking. </p><p>"Of course not. Maybe they know what you sound like, but they don't know what you look like…"</p><p>His eyes move over Yuri's form.</p><p>"... or what you feel like…"</p><p>He pulls Yuri in until they're flush again. </p><p>"... or what you <em>taste</em> like."</p><p>Yuri's dick twitches in interest when Otabek kisses him with lots of tongue and promise. It's way too early to even think about round two, and with how foggy his head still is, he'll be lucky if they make it that far, but it's always something to keep in mind. </p><p>He's at the point where he's considering just going down on Otabek until his own body catches up, lost in the waves of his kisses, when his phone buzzes, safe and out of reach on the nightstand. He rolls away from Otabek's eager mouth (and grins at his whine of disapproval), and clicks open to the message from Viktor: <a href="https://www.tiktok.com/music/original-sound-6891401227528080129?_d=secCgYIASAHKAESMgowz1ULcGmfD5WrBPC9Fmesz0GyBQPC%2B%2FNt7l1%2BDUbfsdIr9UW5OcLwT09jgsUsmKN%2BGgA%3D&amp;language=en&amp;sec_user_id=MS4wLjABAAAAa2jTnGJ_M5q_FZutaQbpEB25yB6X2xsvxhutrmWkWSK77Y9p8JFriMlSj52jegX3&amp;share_app_name=musically&amp;share_link_id=13c44d08-0af1-4c3c-9d00-9244a131072e&amp;share_music_id=6891401227528080129&amp;timestamp=1611863673&amp;u_code=db704733g3a901&amp;user_id=6800211005781771269&amp;utm_campaign=client_share&amp;utm_medium=android&amp;utm_source=copy&amp;source=h5_m">a single link to a TikTok sound</a>. </p><p>His stomach drops. </p><p>Apparently the walls are not as soundproof as he'd always assumed. </p><p>"Oh god…" Otabek whispers, looking at Yuri with wide eyes. "Don't tell me-"</p><p>"<em>Nope</em>," Yuri says quickly, turning his phone on silent and setting it off to the side. He rolls onto Otabek, looking down at him with purpose. </p><p>"What was that again? Something about what I taste like?"</p><p>If Viktor wants a performance, he'll <em>get</em> a fucking performance. He's Yuri fucking Plisetsky, Olympic skater, three-time GPF gold medalist, and the voice of one of the top ten trending topics on Twitter.</p><p>If there's one thing he knows how to do, it's put on a goddamn <em>show</em>.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A couple of days later, one of Yuri’s moans gets stitched with Gabbie Hanna singing “Monster” for Genius. Otabek tags him in a quote retweet, adding:</p><p>"<b>@plisetskyuri</b> this is the best one yet."</p><p>It gets over ten thousand likes.</p><p>Yuri has to agree.</p><p>***</p><p>that was a joke at the start about the comments and the kudos btw. but I *do* actually need positive reinforcement to live, so I'd really appreciate it if you left some &lt;3 come hang out with me on <a href="https://twitter.com/dykeugouu">twitter</a>  and <a href="https://dykeugou.tumblr.com/">tumblr</a> where I talk about writing and these two little shits. I promise I'm not as bad as the tweets in this make it seem.</p><p>special thanks to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/onewingedsk8er/pseuds/onewingedsk8er">jamie</a> for providing me with meme references, use of their twitter name, and endless "I FUCKING HATE YOU"'s as I sent them working updates for this. I fucking hate you too, bitch &lt;3</p><p>
 (also, if you can spot the UNHhhh reference in here, you get a cookie)
</p></blockquote></div></div>
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